


the truth has come down now

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the performance of <em>I Don't Want To Know</em>. Finn and Quinn work out a little of that frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the truth has come down now

It only takes about ten seconds for Finn to storm out of the choir room door after Quinn.

He catches up to her a few meters down the hallway, stopping in front of her and glaring as he says, “What the hell, Quinn?” 

Quinn works her jaw and glares right back. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says. “I said what I had to and that’s all there is to it. You sing with her again and we’re done.”

“That’s not—”

“What?” Quinn asks, raising her eyebrow and pinning him with a look that would normally have him terrified, but right now, he’s too pissed off to feel anything else. “Not fair? We’re in a relationship, Finn. There’s nothing fair about that. Either you want to be with me or you want to sing with Rachel. You can’t have both.”

People are starting to turn their heads now—kids from other after school activities who were on their way out stopping to stare at them both as they stand facing off in the hallway. Quinn must notice them too, because she’s storming off into the unused nurse’s office, turning at the door to make sure he is following.

“You know I love you,” he says, because he thinks maybe that’s all she needs to hear.

“It doesn’t seem like that right now.”

“Well I do.” He’s at a loss as to what to say to convince her. It isn’t fair in the slightest that she’s being such a bitch about this; that she expects him to just pick between the person he loves and the thing he loves doing. 

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Screw you, Quinn. You can’t just tell me to do things like that.”

“Oh no?” Quinn takes a step forward, jabbing her finger into Finn’s chest to the point where he almost winces. “I think you’ll do exactly what I want you to do because you know we have a good thing and it would be stupid of you to do anything to jeopardise that, wouldn’t it?”

He lets out a growl of annoyance. He’s so angry, so frustrated that Quinn can’t seem to see that he is with _her_ and not Rachel, and that singing with Rachel won’t change anything.

He can see spots of red on Quinn’s cheeks that means she’s just as angry as he is, and she’s breathing really fast, and, with the finger stabbing at his chest, is standing _really_ close to him. Before his mind has chance to catch up to what he’s doing, he’s bending down and kissing her, _hard_ , their teeth clashing in a way that should be unpleasant, but just seems to spur him on further.

The small part of his brain that still seems to be functioning wonders what the fuck he’s doing, and more importantly, why Quinn isn’t pushing him away, so it takes him a second to realise Quinn’s actually kissing him back, and just as forcefully.

Her fingers curl into a fist, balling up the front of his shirt in their grasp, and holding him in place, like he’d even think about stopping this—there’s not a chance, not with the way Quinn almost growls against his mouth when he nips her bottom lip a little too hard, and certainly not after he manages to untie the fastening of her sweater and cover one of her boobs with his palm.

It’s not like he wasn’t already half-hard, but the way Quinn’s breath catches in her throat when he squeezes, and how she arches into his hand, well, it’s more than enough to get him there. He works his mouth over her jaw, nipping at the skin, sucking hard, spurred on further by the harshness of Quinn’s breathing in his ear.

It’s nothing like the other times they’ve gone this far; nothing like the careful way Quinn would let him touch her—never too much, always stopping before things could move beyond an almost clinical touch—like Quinn was scared of losing control. The thought is almost enough to make him stop—slow things down a little—but then he remembers Quinn’s crazy-ass declaration, and how damn unreasonable she was being, and he feels some of the annoyance bubble up inside him again, because how _dare_ she just say something like that... it’s not—

Quinn makes this strangled sound and bucks up against him, and he realises he just bit down hard enough on her neck that she’s going to have a mark there tomorrow—the skin’s already turning a deep red—and he’s about to say something when she catches his eye and grits out, “Again,” like it pains her to say it.

The fingers of the hand not bunched up in his shirt dig hard into his ass when he bites down again. He pulls back a little, but Quinn just looks at him like this isn’t the most incredibly fucked up thing they’ve ever done, like she _needs_ this more than anything, and reaches for his belt. 

“Quinn,” he says, but her hands brush by where he’s hard and _wanting_ , and he can’t at all control the way her name comes out like a plea.

“Shut _up_ , Finn,” she hisses. “And I swear to God, if you don’t have a—” He kisses her again, because he’s not fucking stupid, and helps when she fumbles with the buttons of his fly.

There’s a small cot a few feet behind them, and he walks Quinn backwards until they bump up against the edge. His jeans are halfway down his legs already, so he pushes them the rest of the way down, but not before reaching for his wallet and the condom he keeps there—not that he _ever_ really thought he’d be using it with Quinn—Quinn who’s working her panties off and pushing herself up onto the cot, dress bunching up around her waist as she goes.

He rolls the condom on as quickly as he can, ignoring the rational part of his brain that’s telling him they shouldn’t be doing this now, _here_ , because Quinn’s yanking him forwards by his shirt again—and he’s really not happy with the way she seems to feel like she can lead him around like a dog—and barking out a harsh, “ _Now_ , Finn.”

It’s then that he realises he can actually smell her arousal—the dizzying proof that she’s just as far gone in this as he is—and it makes it easier to take himself in his hand, guide himself inside.

His breath leaves him quickly, in a way that makes him almost light-headed, because Quinn is hot and _fuck_ , so, so wet, and his awareness narrows immediately to the feel of Quinn clenching around him.

The groan he lets out eclipsed only by the sound of Quinn’s actual _hiss_ of relief when he starts to move. His hips work almost automatically, pressing into her hard, and the way she’s clutching at him desperately, fingernails digging into his shoulders in a way that’s almost painful, even through the fabric of his shirt, just seems to make everything that much _better_.

It feels so fucking amazing—like he’s releasing all the anger and frustration that’s been building up all day—that he’s almost frantic with it, and Quinn’s crying out louder with each passing second, flushed and breathless, her eyes closed—screwed up like she might be in pain, but she’s not telling him to stop, not even close.

He dips his head, scraping teeth along her neck, and she shudders under him; the little gasping noise she makes has him wanting to do it again and again.

It’s almost too soon, but he’s not going to last much longer, and he’s fairly sure Quinn’s close too, because he can feel her thighs trembling where they’re pressed into his sides, and the strain of her body as she tries to take him deeper, wanting just that little bit more.

He slides a hand down her thigh, pulls her leg up around his waist, and she cries out his name urgently at the next thrust of his hips. And God, he doesn’t think just hearing his name like that should be almost enough to set him off, but it is. He just about has the presence of mind to press fingers against Quinn’s clit, stroking in a way that has her shuddering and clenching, and it’s that feeling that gets him there.

He comes hard, feeling Quinn still fluttering around him, and jerkily thrusting against her until it’s over and he’s just listening to the sound of their harsh breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Quinn,” he says, not quite daring to meet her eyes, now that they’re done and he’s stepping back, rolling the condom off and throwing it in the trash.

“I meant what I said before,” she says, and when he finally dares to look at her, all he can see is that she’s still breathing hard and her cheeks are still flushed, but it’s not from anger—or maybe it still is, and that’s the problem. “And this never happened.”

Of course it didn’t, he thinks, and holds the door open for her on the way out.


End file.
